


She-Ra One(?)-Shots

by Frogenshtein



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Don't know what to tag but HERE WE GO, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Incidental Original Characters - Freeform, Now contains both New and Classic Kyle!, Now with season 5!, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) Season 3, Warning: Contains ONE (1) OR MORE Angst Chapter(s), Written After Season 3, written before Season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2020-09-06 07:29:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20287705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frogenshtein/pseuds/Frogenshtein
Summary: A collection of short(?) and disconnected(?) stories, written when inspiration hits.





	1. Back in Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra is fine. Really.

Catra was brooding.

Had anyone who knew her stopped by to see her, in the room where she sat in sullen silence, they wouldn’t have been surprised. It seemed to be the way of the world; grass grew, the glowing moon orbited the planet, and Catra brooded.

Catra was brooding. This was not new behavior.

Were one to ask Catra, however, she would say that she was _ not _ brooding. Why would she? There was no reason to brood. Catra was fine. Perfect, even. She was back on top, where she belonged.

Sure, Scorpia had been avoiding her recently, and Hordak had become more listless and disinterested than usual as his sanctum was rebuilt, and Catra couldn’t stop thinking about the look of pure enmity Adora had given her as she escaped the collapsing lab, but those details were all secondary. _ Unimportant _ . It didn’t matter, because Catra didn’t _ care _.

Sitting in her quarters and _ definitely not brooding _, Catra thought very hard about how wonderful her life was now that she was back in her rightful place at the top of the heap. She was almost starting to believe it, too.

So of course New Kyle had to come in and ruin it.

“Boss Catra,” the Crimson Waster shouted as she burst through the door, “we got a big problem!”

Catra’s <strike> fake </strike> good mood vanished. “Oooooof _ course _ we do. What is it now?”

“There’s some kinda huge…” New Kyle, in true Kyle-ish fashion, seemed to be struggling to articulate her panicked thoughts. “Metal… **bug** … _ thing,_ tearing up the place! And it’s headed straight–”

The wall behind New Kyle was built as a strong wall; it graduated wall school with honors, and had spent years on wall street refining its craft. And yet, deep down, it had never felt content with wallhood. So, when a large, serrated metallic blade contacted it, the wall very quickly decided that life as a pile of rubble was far more appealing.

New Kyle, naturally, ended up beneath said rubble, like a Kyle.

Catra leapt back, readying herself to either fight or run as she examined the wall’s new life coach.

The creature was large, perhaps slightly larger than a horse (not that Catra knew what a horse was), and its long body and four legs were made primarily of dark grey metal. The head and underside of the beast were red, and it had bulbous glowing eyes and sharp black mandibles. Equally sharp were the two long, serrated arms extended in front of it, as if to convince Catra that maybe _ she _would look better as a pile of rubble as well. Bizarrely, there was a writhing mass of purple tentacles extending from its back, all filthy and oily like unwashed fur–

A very not-monstrous hand extended from the mass of purple hair.

“Hi Catra!” said the voice of all of Catra’s sins, “I’m back from Beast Island!”

Catra stared at the filthy, ragged, very-much_ -not-on-beast-island _ form of Entrapta with a dull, detached sort of horror. “Entrapta. But you– how did–”

The creature placed a bladed arm at Catra’s throat, cutting her off in a way that wasn’t literal, but very clearly _ could _ be.

“I should probably be mad at you for zapping me and putting me on a prison ship, but it turned out the beasts of Beast Island were made of First Ones tech!” Entrapta grinned and gestured to the enormous metal creature she was riding. “That’s how I met Mantisaur here, actually; I was able to hack into his systems and rewrite his programming, and then I retrofitted him with some salvaged Horde tech!”

The princess patted Mantisaur on the side, and the beast withdrew its claws with a noise that sounded disappointed.

Catra, no longer in danger of being decapitated, collapsed to the ground. “This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, I also found King Micah of Brightmoon while I was there; turns out he’s not dead!”

“Hiiiii guyws,” a remarkably disheveled man peeked out from behind Entrapta, waving at them. “Woah Emtrapta, yer frends _ reeeeeeealy _ look like Horde soldjers.”

“He is drunk, though. I think I am too.” The princess held up several bottles of champagne, most of which were empty. “Oh, also, I raided the wine cellar.”

“W-we don’t have a… wine cellar…” New Kyle groaned weakly from under a chunk of ex-wall.

Entrapta paused. “Then…” she looked at the bottles in her hands and hair suspiciously. “…where did I get this champagne?"

The door to the room slammed open, and Hordak himself stomped in angrily. “What is the meaning of– Entrapta?!”

“Hiiii Hordak!” The Princess waved with a grin, “Catra had a mental breakdown and had me sent to Beast Island so I couldn’t warn you about the portal causing time and space to collapse, but it didn’t and I escaped and now I’m back!” She held out a bottle that was _ mostly _ full. “Want some inexplicable champagne?”

Hordak stalled, his mind having difficulty processing this new input. Not the news that Catra had lied again and Entrapta hadn’t betrayed him; he believed that immediately. 

No, Hordak’s mind was currently attempting to parse the image of his Lab Partner astride a fearsome warbeast and wearing what amounted to a few rags. The clone felt an unfamiliar stir in his emotions… among other things.

Catra, for her part, was curled up into a ball. “Am I having a stroke? Is this what a stroke feels like?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, one and all, to whatever this ends up being! Somehow, over the course of... I think only a single day, actually, I managed to write all of this, make a brunch-burger (patty, cheese, bacon, egg, and silver dollar pancakes instead of buns), and post it online!
> 
> Now if only I could get this excited about my original works...


	2. Like a Trapdoor (In My Heart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the destruction of his sanctum, Hordak returns to his throne to find an unexpected surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have made this the first chapter, since this could theoretically have taken place before it, but I don't feel up to figuring out how to move chapters around right now.

Hordak’s throne room was still intact. That frustrated him.

The portal had been destroyed, his inner sanctum was in shambles, and the rest of the building was partially collapsed, but the throne room was still intact.

His laboratory was ruined, the clone pods had most likely shattered, and once-valuable equipment now had to be dug out of the rubble to see what was worth  _ salvaging _ …

_ …but at least the Horde-damned throne room was still intact _ .

Hordak scowled as he stalked through the room; with Horde forces already set to clear away the debris, there was little for him to do but sit on his throne and glare hatefully at the walls.

Or rather, that was his intent, but a crinkle of paper as he sat down gave him pause. Someone had taped a note to the arm of his throne. Hordak picked up the note to read, and conflicting emotions swelled within him as he recognized the handwriting.

It was from Entrapta.

_ Hordak, _

_ I remembered you complaining about how long it took to “dispose of incompetents” in your throne room, so I skipped sleep for a few days to put some trapdoors in front of your throne! The control panel is on the left arm, press a button on the grid to open the corresponding door. They feed into the sewers, but we can change that later if you want! I hope you like it! _

_ Your Lab Partner, _

_ Entrapta _

Looking away from the note, Hordak saw that there was indeed a grid of buttons beneath his left hand. Confusion fell over the Horde leader as he stood from his throne, his keen eyes picking out very subtle and well-hidden seams in the floor before him. This was a non-insignificant amount of work, apparently done in the handful of hours when Entrapta hadn’t been working on the portal with him.

His first thought was sabotage, that the throne had been rigged to explode or electrocute him if he pressed a button, but Entrapta wouldn’t resort to such an underhanded method of assassination.

‘ _ You can’t trust anyone _ ,’ Catra’s voice rang out in Hordak’s mind, ‘ _ Especially a Princess. They’ll just use you to get what they want. _ ’

After an hour of searching both the throne and the surrounding room, however, he finds no other evidence of tampering.

_ Perhaps then _ , he thinks,  _ it’s to target the soldiers _ , but that rings false as well; he recalls the conversation mentioned in the note, some three days ago after that imbecile Mantenna had wasted the better part of an hour stumbling over a one-page report that should have just been filed and taken to Catra. Soldiers of Mantenna’s ‘caliber’ weren’t worth targeting.

It would be easy enough to test. He activates his throne’s communicator to contact Grizzlor.

“Lord Hordak,” the beastly commander salutes as the connection completes. “How may I serve you?”

Grizzlor was one of his better Force Captains; completely loyal, but not wholly unintelligent.

“Send up a soldier,” he commands.

“Which one, Sir?”

“It doesn’t matter. Someone disposable.”

Grizzlor nodded. “Understood, Lord Hordak.”

* * *

The trooper they send certainly  _ looks _ disposable; unkempt blond hair, sunken eyes, and almost rail-thin. From Catra’s old squad, if Hordak remembers correctly.

“Y-you wanted to s-see me, Lord Hordak?” The boy stammers out.

Hordak notes that the boy still has one foot outside the door, and he looks ready to flee at the first sign of aggression.

“Come closer,” Hordak commands.

The cadet inches forwards.

“Closer,” Hordak demands with a hint of impatience.

The cadet flinches and steps forward, shaking, until Hordak gestures for him to stop.

“Stand still,” Hordak says. 

He presses the button, and the cadet vanishes downwards with a scream that gets cut off with a splash.

‘_They feed into the sewers,_’ the note had said, ‘_but we can change that later if you want!_’

The note was genuine; Entrapta, in the scant few hours between their sessions in the lab, spent her time and effort renovating his throne room. 

‘ _ I skipped sleep for a few days _ ’

Why?

‘ _ I hope you like it! _ ’

If she was just going to betray him, then  _ why would she do this _ ?

‘ _ Your Lab Partner _ ’

It doesn’t make _ sense _ .

A memory surfaces, unbidden, of one of his and Entrapta’s earlier prototypes of the portal that had turned itself inside-out.

_ Hordak slammed his fist against the warped remains of the portal device. “We had allowances for this,” he growled. “We ran the calculations, so why doesn’t it WORK?! It doesn’t make  _ sense _ .” _

_ A rapid clacking noise drew his attention to Entrapta tapping away at a computer terminal. _

_“If the output doesn’t make sense,” the Princess said, scanning through rows upon rows of equations,_ _“it’s probably because of bad data; just go over all the information and the discrepancy should show itself.”_

Bad data. Go over his information. Find a discrepancy.

Hordak calls Grizzlor again.

“You needed something else, my Lord?”

“Force Captain. Tell the men clearing the debris from my sanctum that they have a new priority: they are to recover as much security footage of the area as they can.”

“Yes, Sir,” Grizzlor salutes.

“And,” Hordak’s eyes narrow, “tell them to bring it directly to me; Commander Catra is not to know about this.”

It’s not an unfamiliar order, withholding information from the second-in-command; Hordak had held little trust towards Shadow Weaver.

Grizzlor nods. “Understood, Lord Hordak. Is there anything else?”

“Yes.” Hordak smiles. “Send Mantenna to my throne room.”

_ You can’t trust anyone _ , Catra had said; bold words from a known liar.


	3. The Dinner Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hordak and Entrapta share an evening at a fancy restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a [prompt](https://its-a-trapta.tumblr.com/post/187178291455/entrapdak-prompt-57) by its-a-trapta on tumblr.

Neither Entrapta nor Hordak were in the habit of eating dinner. Entrapta often spaced out her meals into multiple tiny dishes over the day, causing the smallest cumulative amount of time not focused on her experiments. Hordak, on the other hand, merely consumed nutrition bars at regular intervals; it was Horde standard, and he had never seen a need for anything else.

Naturally, this lack of dinner expertise meant that neither of them were practiced in the way of fine dining. It showed.

“So exactly how small are your hors d'oeuvres?” Entrapta asked the terrified waitress. “Are they bite size? Two-bites-size?”

The waitress merely stood and trembled until a sharp glare from Hordak frightened her into speaking. “I, uh, a b-bite and a half, maybe?”

“Hmm,” Entrapta considered. “It’ll have to do. I’ll take the sample platter.”

Granted, this impromptu dinner wasn’t entirely _ planned _; the Horde had taken the restaurant as a temporary command center while the rest of the troops secured the recently conquered city. Entrapta had seen the terrified chefs and waitstaff and, in a moment of nostalgia over her own terrified chefs and waitstaff from Dryl, had decided that they would have a celebratory dinner.

Entrapta looked at her dining companion. “What about you, Hordak?”

Hordak had been scowling at the needlessly fancy menu for the past ten minutes, unable to decipher its illegible looping script but unwilling to admit defeat.

“You could try the salad,” suggested Scorpia, sat at the next table over, “it’s _ really _ good. And Catra looks like she’s enjoying her soup.”

Catra, chained to her chair, the picture of abject misery, sighed as Kyle spoon-fed her. “I used to have dreams, you know. Ambitions.”

A number of higher-ranking Horde troopers were there, including Scorpia. This, of course, meant the high-profile prisoner Catra was there as well, since Scorpia was in charge of watching her.

“Count yourself fortunate to still be alive, _ ex-commander Catra _,” Hordak growled, slapping the menu down on the table. He turned to the waitress, still standing there terrified. “Bring me the largest cut of meat you have. Rare.”

“_ Right-away-sir-please-don’t-kill-me _,” the waitress spoke hurriedly before fleeing to the kitchens.

Emily sat against the wall, plugged in to charge. Imp sat atop the droid, eating breadsticks.

“It’s great that they have fizzy drinks here,” Entrapta noted as she sipped her beverage. “Not a lot of places have the infrastructure to make them.”

Hordak hummed in agreement; while they did have a ‘technically portable’ machine to carbonate liquids (courtesy of Entrapta, naturally), not needing to deploy it was a welcome occurrence.

Some minutes later, the waitress returned with their orders. Entrapta rubbed her hands together in delight at the platter of finger foods placed in front of her.

Hordak, meanwhile, looked from the trembling waitress to the pathetic 4oz steak that had been placed in front of him. “_ This _ is your biggest cut of meat?”

“W-well-” the waitress stuttered, “we, uh, that is-”

Hordak scowled back at his plate and waved dismissively. “Never mind, bring me three more.”

“_ Yessir _,” the waitress rushed out, fleeing to the kitchens once more.

Scorpia looked after the fleeing waitress. “Man, the service here is _ spectacular _, these guys deserve a big tip.”

Suddenly, Entrapta perked up and looked at Hordak; the warlord recognized her expression as one of sudden realization.

“You know,” the Princess said, picking up a canapé, “all things considered, this _ is _ a pretty nice restaurant.”

Hordak looked around, taking in the decor of the building around them. “I suppose it is… _ adequate _.”

“And here we are, eating dinner…”

Hordak looked at Entrapta, uncertain where she was going with this. “Indeed.”

The Princess smiled wide. “This is a date!”

“Yes,” Hordak agreed, as he often did to whatever Entrapta said when she smiled at him. Then he finished parsing what she’d said. “I mean no. I mean-”

Entrapta gently placed a lock of hair over Hordak’s hand. “It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to,” she said understandingly.

“I…” Hordak hesitated. “That is…”

Catra slammed her face into her table, accidentally flinging a bowl of soup all over Kyle. “_ Uuuuuggghhh _,” she groaned. “Why couldn’t I have been executed? I don’t want to see those two making goo-goo eyes at eachother.”

Kyle whimpered, covered in hot soup.


	4. Moonlighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Etheria, being trapped in the empty, starless void of Despondos, did not have a sun. However, that did not mean there were no beach vacations.

The war in Etheria had ground to a halt; Hordak had apparently disappeared, and his second-in-command had been deposed by the Desert Princess, Scorpia. The Princess Alliance was in chaos trying to decide whether or not it was a trick to lower their guard, furiously debating what might have happened and what they should do next. It was a question on most peoples’ minds, these days: where was Hordak, and what was he planning?

Serisue was not one of these people. Ultimately, she decided, it hardly mattered what had happened, so long as it didn’t affect her little beachside shop.

Serisue, owner of Serisue’s Salineas Seaside Shindig Shack, smiled widely as a prospective customer entered her store.

“Salutations, Sir,” Serisue greeted, “and welcome to Serisue’s Salineas Seaside Shindig Shack.”

The man stepped forward, a moderately tall man in a long-sleeved swim shirt and baggy swim trunks. Serisue’s eyes took him in, tracing the lean muscles hidden under the tight shirt, taking note of his pale skin and chiseled features; a sharp jaw, glowing red eyes, pointed ears… not to mention that _ moustache _…

“So what of Serisue’s services do you seek, Mister…?” Serisue trailed off expectantly.

“I am Hord…erick,” the man replied. “Yes. Horderick. I was informed that this establishment sold… beach equipment?”

Serisue nodded. “Certainly, sweetie. Shovels, swimsuits, seashells, we stock all sorts.”

“I require protection from the radiation put off by this planet’s glowing moon.”

“Sensitive skin?” Serisue smirked. “Sure, sugar; try Sal’s Moonscreen.” She placed a bottle of anti-moon lotion on the counter with a wink. “You need someone to spread it on you?”

The bell above the door jingled, signifying another customer and cutting off tall, pale and handsome’s reply. The woman that came through was rather short, but stocky, wearing a one-piece swimsuit that seemed to hug her curves in all the right places. She also had a massive amount of purple hair in a long ponytail behind her, some strands escaping and framing her striking fuchsia eyes and soft features… not to mention that _ moustache _…

The woman looked at Horderik. “Honey, can you get some moonglasses, too? Imp is getting fussy again, I think the glow moon is hurting his eyes.”

She held up a small child wearing swim trunks and an adorable little “life’s a beach” t-shirt with holes in the back to accommodate a pair of leathery wings. The child also had the _ cutest _ little moustache…

“Of course, dear,” Horderick replied, gazing at the woman with loving eyes.

Serisue’s stomach sank. “Your spouse, I suppose?”

“…Yyyyes,” Horderick replied. “This is my… _ wife _, Entra…bitha. Entrabitha. And our son, uh… Impston.”

Serisue sighed; two attractive people in her shack on the same day, and they were married. “Shame,” she muttered.

“Beg pardon?”

“I said ‘Shades’! I can supply some!” Serisue slapped a pair of plastic moonglasses on the counter. “That’ll be seven Salineas Seabucks and sixteen cents.”

Horderick produced a wallet. “Do you accept Horde Standard Credits?”

Serisue shook her head. “Sadly no. Sorry, sir.”

“What about Drylian Francs?” Entrabitha asked, digging a coin pouch out of her vast ponytail. “Do you accept those?”

Serisue smiled. “Sure do, sister.”

“Entrap…bitha,” Horderick protested, “You shouldn’t have to-”

A strand of purple hair pressed itself to Horderick’s mouth as Entrabitha paid. “Shh,” she said, picking up the moonglasses and moon lotion, “it’s no bother. Now come on, I left Emily tied to a pole outside.”

“Ah, yes,” Horderick said stiffly, “Emily. Our… dog.”

Serisue waved after the two as they exited. “Shop again soon!”

* * *

Hordak frowned at the store they had just exited, stroking his false moustache in confusion and amazement as Entrapta sat Imp back down on top of Emily's chassis. “I cannot believe that worked."

“Honestly? Neither can I.” Entrapta shrugged, brandishing the bottle of moon lotion at Hordak. “Now come here, 'dear husband'; no glowing moon is going to ruin _ our _ beach vacation!”

Hordak squinted up at the burning bright orb in the sky. “I _ hate _ that damn moon…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serisue sells seashells in a seaside shindig shack by the Salinean seashore.


	5. Beast Island, Final log

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entrapta is no longer on Beast Island. Hordak shows Catra the consequences of betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PRE-DRABBLE WARNING: This One(?)-Shot contains MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH.  
This is an angsty one folks; it was a slog to write, but the idea would NOT leave me alone.

_ “Beast Island, Day 17, Hour… 10 or so. F-final log.” _

Hordak strode down the halls swathed in a palpable aura of malice, glowering at anything he came across. What few troopers he encountered shrank away from his gaze, none daring to approach him as he travelled to the cell block.

_ “I’m c-currently on an isolated s-stretch of beach, some d-distance from the nest of Tyrosaurs I d-discovered yesterday.” _

None, that is, until someone either daring or foolish blocked his path. Through a haze of fury, Hordak recognized the chitinous claws and tail of Force Captain Scorpia.

_ “It’s been a heck of a day… but it’s finally over.” _

“Lord Hordak,” Scorpia said, her tone worried but hopeful, “you’re back from Beast Island!” The Force Captain looked around questioningly. “Where’s…?”

_ “I c-can’t believe it’s really h-happening.” _

Silently, Hordak held out a tape recorder spattered with blood.

_ “I’m r-really going to die.” _

Scorpia gasped in horror. “She… but she  _ can’t be _ …”

_ “I m-managed to escape the Tyrosaur mother about h-half an hour ago.” _

“Move out of the way, Force Captain,” Hordak growled.

_ “Unf-fortunately, it cost me both of m-my legs.” _

Meekly, Scorpia flinched back, and Hordak pushed past her to the elevator platform.

_ “Between an elevated h-heart rate and a lack of m-medical supplies, my attempts to staunch the bleeding were… unsuccessful. I’ve lost t-too much blood already.” _

Shocked, and a little numb, Scorpia followed him.

_ “Since this is my l-last recording… I h-have some final notes in regards to m-my interpersonal p-projects.” _

As the platform rose, so too did Hordak's anger, until he reached his destination floor.

_ “First, Emily.” _

Hordak walked purposefully towards the fuschia-eyed droid standing guard in front of a cell.

_ “Emily was my… fourth or f-fifth experiment with emergent c-consciousness in m-machine intelligence… and probably my m-most successful.” _

The round robot directed her optics up at Hordak. Imp, sat atop her chassis, made a vaguely inquisitive noise.

_ “I don’t know h-how she’ll react to… m-my death.” _

Again, Hordak held out the bloodied recorder.

_ “It’ll probably be  _ fascinating _ data… but I g-guess I won’t be there to observe…" _

Emily fixed her optics on the recorder as Hordak allowed Imp to take it from him.

_ "Oh well…” _

The droid made no further movements.

_ “Second, and most complex, is Catra…” _

Hordak stepped past Imp and Emily and up to the forcefield door of the cell, glowering at the starved, mangy figure chained to the back wall.

_ “As s-stated in earlier recordings, C-Catra was… the one who s-sent me here, making her m-most directly responsible for my imminent expiration.” _

“Hordak.” Catra had the audacity to look him in the eyes. “Surprised you came to get me in person. I guess you’ll be stuffing me in the transport to Beast Island, then?”

_ “There are c-caveats to that, however: b-based on available data, Catra’s actions were most likely the result of a p-prolonged mental breakdown.” _

Hordak considered his former second-in-command, reduced to the pathetic thing before him. “No.”

_ “In l-light of this reasoning, it may be p-possible to forgive her.” _

“ _ No? _ ” Catra’s expression turned confused, but only for a moment. “Oh, did Entrapta talk you out of making an example of me?”

_ “That being s-said…” _

Hordak disabled the forcefield, stepping into the cell. “ **No.** ” The sheer venom and loathing packed into his voice caused Catra’s prideful facade to wither and die as she backed away from him.

_ “…I’ve d-decided not to.” _

Hordak suddenly surged forward, wrapping both of his hands around Catra’s neck and lifting her into the air.

_ “I’ve s-stated in previous recordings that C-Catra was… my friend.” _

“There will be no  _ transport _ .” Hordak steadily ignored the scratch of Catra’s flailing claws as they failed to penetrate his armor.

_ “I s-stand by the fact that, at one point, she w-was.” _

“There will be no  _ example _ .” The warlord could feel vertebrae straining beneath his fingers as his grip increased in pressure.

_ “But… she isn’t my friend now. Not anymore.” _

“YOU DIE  _ HERE AND NOW _ , BY THE HANDS ENTRAPTA MADE FOR ME!”

_ “Scorpia will m-most likely attempt to intervene.” _

“Lord Hordak, wait-!” Scorpia started towards them, but Emily blocked her path, laser cannon pointed threateningly at her. Imp hissed at Scorpia from atop the droid.

_ “I’ll m-miss her… she was nice.” _

Hordak ignored the altercation; all that mattered to him was the soon-to-be-deceased  _ traitor _ in his hands.

_ “Finally… Hordak. My l-lab partner.” _

Tighter and tighter the warlord squeezed, watching Catra’s lips turn blue with grim satisfaction.

_ “Between building the p-portal and engaging in intellectual d-discussions… s-some things were left uns-said.” _

Hordak hissed through his teeth. “Suffer and perish.”

_ “I r-regret that the m-most, I think.” _

Hordak only hoped Catra felt a  _ fraction _ of the pain he himself was in.

_ “I n-never told Hordak that… t-that I lov…” _

Gradually, Catra’s flailing slowed, then stopped; Hordak watched with vindictive pleasure as the light drained from her eyes.

_ “…” _

Finally, the warlord dropped the  _ ex- _ traitor’s lifeless body to the floor of the cell.

_ “…” _

“Force captain.” Hordak’s tone was entirely flat, but it still caused Scorpia to flinch away. “Rally the troops; there is much work to be done.”

_ “…” _

Scorpia tried and failed to make herself look smaller. “Work, Sir?”

_ “…” _

Hordak turned his gaze on Scorpia; there was moisture gathering at the edges of his eyes. “We are going to ready this planet for Horde Prime’s arrival, and we are going to  _ crush every last Rebel  _ ** _wretch_ ** _ that dares to get in my way. _ ”

_ “…”  _ ** _*click*_ **


	6. Final Log, Version 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bold of you, assuming Entrapta can die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I can't angst unless I immediately ruin said angst for myself and/or others.

Hordak wrung the traitorous Catra’s scrawny neck, feeling vertebrae strain beneath his powerful grip. “YOU DIE _ HERE AND NOW _, BY THE HANDS ENTRAPTA MADE FOR ME!”

“Lord Hordak, wait-!” Scorpia started towards them, but Emily blocked her path, laser cannon pointed threateningly at her. Imp hissed at Scorpia from atop the droid.

Hordak ignored the Force Captain; all that mattered to him was the soon-to-be-deceased _ traitor _ in his hands. Catra would die _ here _, in a cell, chained to a wall.

The wall to which Carta was chained was a strong wall. One far stronger than the wall to Catra’s old quarters. When the wall was built to exacting specifications on a pleasantly smoggy Fright Zone afternoon, it faced another wall with a large hole in it, and decided it enjoyed being a wall very much, compared to the alternative. That was, at least, until the workers installed the cell door, and the wall saw how awesome the other wall was, capable of being both a wall _ and _ a door, and the wall became disenfranchised with wallism. So, when a precision laser cutter reached out to it, the wall happily accepted, finally reaching its dream of being a door.

The loud _ clang _ of a rectangular section of wall crashing to the floor jarred Hordak into loosening his grip; that combined with gravity pulling on the chains around Catra’s wrists resulted in the prisoner being yanked out of Hordak’s clutches and falling bonelessly to the floor.

“Hi Hordak!” Entrapta waved cheerfully as she climbed through the newly made doorway on her hair. “Good news: I’m not dead!”

Notably, the Princess was missing both of her legs at roughly mid-thigh.

“Entrapta!” Scorpia gasped in shock. “You’re not dead!”

Entrapta nodded. “That’s what I just said! Also, hi Scorpia!”

Hordak, who had just gone from nigh-apoplectic fury to stunned shock in the space of about 5 seconds, was still reeling from the sight of his apparently-not-dead Lab Partner.

“Oh! Before I forget!” Entrapta’s hair surged forwards, grabbing Hordak by the shoulders and pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss.

“hHHHHH!” Scorpia gasped, enchanted from the display.

“Hhhhhhhhh,” Catra wheezed, unconscious from being choked out.

This went on for several minutes.

Eventually, Entrapta broke the kiss and set Hordak back on his feet. The Horde leader, having traded one type of emotional shock for a different one, continued to say nothing as the Princess dug a notepad and pen out of her hair.

“Temporary log,” Entrapta spoke aloud as she wrote, “Fright Zone re-entry, hour 5: I’ve just beaten my previous record for longest breath held, new record is 4 minutes 12 seconds. Additionally, I’ve just confirmed my long-standing hypothesis that Hordak’s mouth tastes like blood.”

Hordak’s mind gave a jolt, returning a small measure of cognizance. “How?” he questioned faintly.

“Well,” the Princess replied, “I noticed that your teeth were an odd color some time ago– oh, you mean how am I alive. Apparently, one of the inmates happened upon my still-cooling body about a minute after my heart stopped and was able to resuscitate me! He said his name was Modulok, and he’d brought me back to life so he could vivisect me and use my organs to repair his broken ship and create a…” Entrapta flipped back a few pages in her notebook. “…'frankensteinian boat-person abomination.’ Which sounded _ fascinating _, but I was in a hurry to get back so I just knocked him unconscious and stole his ship. Turns out it was just out of fuel.”

Scorpia hissed through her teeth. “Ooh, I remember Modulok. Creepy guy, always talking about ‘frankensteinian’ this and ‘cronenbergian’ that, it was a big relief when he got kicked out of the medical corps. He was actually a pretty terrible doctor; one time I came to him with a cold and he wanted to try ‘turning me off and back on again.’”

“So anyway!” Entrapta continued, “I was able to refit the ship to run on coconuts and sail it back to the Fright Zone, and now here I am!”

Hordak’s mind finished rebooting as the two spoke. “Entrapta,” he said haltingly, “it is… good, to see that records of your demise were… exaggerated.” He gestured to Catra, still unconscious on the floor. “I was just getting rid of your betrayer.”

“I can see that,” Entrapta nodded. “But actually, I don’t think you should kill Catra.”

“_ What _ ?” A mote of indignation broke through Hordak’s emotional haze. “And why should this _ traitor _ be allowed to live?”

Scorpia’s eyes lit up with hope. “Have you decided to forgive her for attacking you because she was having a mental breakdown and it wasn’t really her fault?”

“No,” Entrapta said, very blunt. “I need a live subject I can take apart so I can build myself a new set of legs, and Catra’s morphology is similar enough to mine to work as a good starting point!”

Hordak smirked. “An excellent idea, Entrapta. Granted.”

Scorpia’s hopes crashed and burned.

Catra started to regain consciousness on the floor. “Ughhh,” she groned, “am I dead?”

“Hi Catra!” Entrapta leaned over her new involuntary lab assistant. “Good news: instead of dying, you get to help me with prosthetics research!”

Catra looked up at Entrapta’s looming, manic grin. “So this is Hell.”


	7. The Winner's Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The largest war in Etherian history has been won, and the Horde is no more. But what comes next?

It was the biggest galactic upset in recorded history. Horde Prime, despotic ruler of the known universe, lay slain at the hands of a group of rebels on some unknown planet, and with his death came the destruction of the Horde’s entire galactic empire. All throughout Horde-conquered space, Horde Prime’s oppressive army of clones were shutting down from lack of orders. Rebellions were breaking out everywhere as thousands of oppressed species did their level best to hack apart the corpse of the metaphorical beast that they had been forced to serve.

And on the small, nearly unknown planet of Etheria, in the still-mostly-intact kingdom of Dryl, the rebel Princesses were celebrating.

“Who wants to hear the daring tale of how I took down fifty- no, _ sixty _ thousand Horde clones,” Sea Hawk crowed from his perch upon a festively-decorated table, “using only my wits and my laser foil!”

Mermista groaned in her seat at the same table, resting her head in her hands. “You set the spaceship on fire.”

“It was very heroic!”

“_ While we were still in it. _”

King Micah and Queen Angella were off in a shaded corner, huddled closely together.

“I was on that island for so long… It was only the thought of you and glimmer that kept me sane…”

“It was so cold in the void between dimensions… and so dark…”

Queen Glimmer, who both former rulers were clinging to, shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Not that the hugging isn’t great," she said awkwardly, "but my legs are sort of asleep?”

Closer to the dance floor, Double Trouble was plying their trade.

“It was a _ masterful _ display,” they said to a crowd of onlookers. “Horde Prime never knew what hit him.”

Frosta, seated nearby, hopped up in excitement. “Ooh! Ooh! Do the impression!”

“Anything for my adoring audience.” Double Trouble assumed the form of Horde Prime and twisted their face into an expression of horror and pain. “No! _ No _ ! This cannot _ be _ ! Aagh!” they cried, covering the right side of their face, “my eyes! My extremely vulnerable extra eyes! Oh _ why _ did I give myself such squishy and unnecessary weak points?!”

A few tables away, Perfuma and Huntara were guarding the Alliance’s newest ‘prisoner,’ a loosely-shackled Catra.

“It’s still so hard to believe,” the Plumerian Princess posited, “that Hordak would sacrifice himself like that to take down his own flesh and blood.”

Catra snorted. “Believe me, flower girl; in a place like The Horde, ‘family’ is just a lie the higher-ups use to keep the grunts in line.” She scowled at the broken mask in her hands, feeling the deep grooves of her claw marks and relishing the memories it brought. “I know from experience.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Huntara nodded.

Bow, who had overheard, grimaced when he noticed a purple mass edging towards one of the doors.

“Entrapta!” he called out, walking briskly over to the Drylian princess (lowercase p, since she had no runestone).

Entrapta took a moment to turn around. “Oh, hi Bow.” She smiled a smile that looked _ almost _ real, in Bow’s opinion. “If you were looking for the tiny food, it’s over by the fizzy drink machine there.” A bit of her hair rose up to point.

“Oh, uh, no,” the archer shook his head slightly, not taking his eyes off of the deceptively fast scientist. “I actually wanted to say thanks for, y’know, letting us have the victory party here in Dryl.”

Entrapta nodded. “Oh it’s no problem; after all, this _ was _ where Horde Prime was taken down.” Her smile strained a little at the edges. “And also a bunch of other things happened.”

“Mm-hm, Yep,” Bow hummed awkwardly, “a whole bunch of things.”

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds, Bow carefully not averting his eyes and Entrapta smiling an increasingly pained smile.

“So,” the princess finally said, “did you need anything? Because I was about to head back to my lab-”

“Oh, no, Entrapta,” Bow hastily interrupted, “you should stay! This _ is _ your castle, and we wouldn’t want to be rude, partying without you here-”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” Entrapta interrupted Bow’s interruption, turning towards the door, “actually I have a project I should really be getting back to-”

“Entrapta…” Bow put a hand on Entrapta’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about the others; I know you and Hordak were… _ close _… but-”

Entrapta cringed away, flipping her mask down. “It’s okay, Bow.” The Princess pushed past him and through the doorway. “You all have fun without me.”

“Entrapta, wait-” She was in the vents before Bow could finish calling out to her.

A large claw nestled gently on the young archer’s shoulder. “Let her go,” Scorpia said. “She just needs some time alone.”

The archer reluctantly allowed Scorpia to nudge him back towards the party, sending one last concerned look at the vent hatch Entrapta had disappeared into.

* * *

Deep in the CryptoCastle, hidden from the prying eyes of the Princess Alliance, Entrapta resumed work on what may well have been her most important project to date.

“Personal log, post-Alliance-victory: day 3…? No, 4. I finally managed to get away from the celebrations and back to my lab.” Several tools emerged from her ponytails, gripped by tendrils of hair. “It’s a shame to miss out on a chance to gather data on interpersonal dynamics, but this takes precedence… although…”

A second recorder emerged from the princess’s hair and switched on, though none of her other tools slowed in their work.

“Interpersonal notes, post-victory: day 4. I briefly attended the Brightmoon Alliance’s celebration of the Horde’s dissolution, and noticed some of the others experienced feelings of grief over Hordak, despite having been his enemy for the majority of their lives; an unexpected result. Further study may be needed.”

Mentally filing that under her ‘to do’ list (which was getting rather large, actually), Entrapta resumed her first recording.

“Log continues. I’ve finished salvage operations on Horde Prime’s flagship, and making repairs has been a _ lot _ easier with an example to work off of; It’s very convenient that it happened to crash into the CryptoCastle after the Small Angry Princess destroyed its grav-propulsors.” A thoughtful frown appeared on her face. “Well, convenient in certain ways, at least. Anyway, it should only be about another week before we’re ready to depart.”

Her dictation was interrupted by a small, questioning screech.

Another tendril of hair extended, reaching out to pat Imp on the head. “Well of course I’m bringing you and Emily, silly! There’ll be more than enough room! Now keep recording.”

Robot and clone-hybrid both made affirmative noises, and Entrapta was struck again by how convenient it was to have two different backups of her notes as she carefully inspected the multiple inconveniently tiny screens on the console in front of her.

(And really, they were quite unnecessarily small; some of Entrapta’s favored meals were larger.)

“Readouts still indicate a low-power state, though the numbers have gone up substantially since yesterday. By my calculations, basic functionality should be restored in another two days.”

That brought a smile to Entrapta’s face; just two more days and she could start planning her journey across the stars, finding and studying all of the _ fascinating _ things in the universe that the Horde had on file. Perhaps the first stop would be that planet of sentient parasitic techno-organisms the Horde had conquered… planet Mokino or something. She’d love to disassemble one to see how they were built.

Speaking of disassembling aliens… “I wonder how long it’ll take for the Alliance to notice the missing bodies,” Entrapta mused. “I would have thought at least _ one _ of the veteran members would want to confirm the kill…” she looked up from the console and over to her research table, noting with only slight disappointment that her anti-staining solution had failed; she’d have to melt down yet another table. “Of course, even if they _ do _ notice, I’ve already disposed of everything I couldn’t use. Which was a lot, actually.” She looked back at her current project. “Why _ did _ Horde Prime have two extra eyes?”

The battered, beaten, barely breathing form of Hordak said nothing, floating as he was in the safety of a Horde medical suspension pod.

“Well, no matter.” Entrapta smiled as she soldered a wire in place. “There’s a whole wide _ wonderful _ universe out there, and I wouldn’t dream of seeing it without my Lab Partner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The species Entrapta plans to go find (and dissect) is a reference to the 2013 reboot of Max Steel, another Mattel-owned property.


	8. Maladoptive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bow and Adora visit Entrapta to discuss Mara's ship, Darla. Hordak is there as well.

“It’s great of you guys to stop by,” Entrapta smiled at Adora and Bow as she led them through the winding corridors of her castle. “None of you called for a couple of weeks after Horde Prime was eradicated, and we’ve been so swamped with work getting Dryl restaffed- lucky for us there were all those robots left over from the invasion.”

A Galactic Horde drone clanked past, its optics glowing fuchsia as it adjusted the feather duster bolted to its arm.

“I learned _ so much _ when I rewired them…” Entrapta gazed after it with a distant gleam in her eyes.

Adora looked in the same direction, a little nervous. “Yeah, that’s great.” She looked back at Entrapta. “So, Entrapta, we’re actually here because we need some tech advice. The ship- uh, Darla… has been acting up.”

“Yeah…” Bow nodded hesitantly. “We think she… misses you?”

Entrapta shot up with a smile, switching to walking on her hair instead of her legs. “Oh, of course; Darla hasn’t been around at all this whole time! I need to introduce her to Emily, and I’m sure Imp will love having another big sister, not to mention Jennifer- you remember Jennifer, right? From Beast Island?”

Bow and Adora enchanted a nervous glance. Nobody in the Princess Alliance was entirely sure what to make of Entrapta’s tendency to treat robots like they had feelings, a confusion not helped by said robots usually responding in kind.

“But first!” Entrapta popped up between Adora and Bow, shoving a couple of glass bottles into their hands. “Try this! Fizzlewiz decided to teach Wrong Hordak to make fizzy drinks, and he’s a _ natural _ at it! He’s made something he calls ‘Cream Soda’!”

“Uh…” Adora eyed the bottle appraisingly; Wrong Hordak _ was _ pretty good in the kitchen… “Okay- wait, who’s Fizzlewiz?”

“You know, Fizzlewiz Poppington,” Entrapta explained. “From the kitchen? He works with Patricia and Bobbi?”

Adora looked questioningly at Bow as she popped the cap off of her bottle. 

“They, um…” Bow looked away, a little shamefaced. “They never actually told me their names, I don’t think.”

Entrapta waved a hand dismissively. “Oh it’s fine, it took me _ weeks _ to remember their names when they started working here.”

Bow and Adora both took an awkward swig of ‘cream soda’ to avoid replying.

The drinks were good, at least.

An uncomfortably quiet few minutes passed before they arrived at a large metal door.

“Well, here we are!” Entrapta gestured to the imposing barrier with grandeur. “The new sanctum!”

Adora nodded. “So you’ve got something in there to help with the- with Darla?”

“Hm?” Entrapta looked genuinely confused for a moment before breaking into a bright smile. “OH! No.” A lock of purple hair rose up and slid the door aside, the metal groaning slightly under its own weight. “Hordak wanted to talk to you, Adora.”

Adora tensed. “Wha-”

Another lock of hair whipped up without warning and shoved Adora through the doorway. The door closed behind her with a solid **clunk.**

Bow’s voice carried faintly through the thick metal. “Entrapta, what-” 

“It’s fine!” Entrapta’s voice was slightly less faint, the princess being naturally exuberant. “Now come on, Wrong Hordak was going to try his hand at cupcakes!”

Adora tried opening the heavy door, but it was shut tight. A noise behind her made Adora turn around.

The room was dimly lit and dark around the edges, most of the lighting seemingly concentrated over a work table in the center of the room. On the table was another Galactic Horde drone, its chassis opened to expose the internals. Hordak stood behind it, deftly plucking tools from where they lay on either side of the robot and using them on the wiring and circuits with practiced ease.

“Greetings, Adora.” Hordak briefly looked up as he spoke, though his eyes quickly turned back to his work. “I trust the day finds you well?”

Adora didn’t respond for a moment, taking in Hordak’s appearance; dark blue hair which she now knew had to be dyed, glowing red eyes that contrasted sharply with the sickly green of Horde Prime’s troops, and teeth that were much the same (though Adora wasn’t sure how Hordak had made his _ teeth _ of all things change color).

Eventually, Adora nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah I’m… feeling fine.”

“Good.” Hordak nodded precisely once. “And how have you enjoyed my… _ brother’s _ refreshments?”

Adora looked down, belatedly realizing she was still holding her bottle of cream soda. “Oh, uh… it’s. It’s good? Wrong Hordak is pretty talented.”

“Yes.” Hordak nodded once more, and Adora thought she saw a faint smile on his face. “Yes, he is.”

Adora quietly sipped at her drink and rocked back on her heels for a few seconds, letting her eyes roam back towards the heavy door behind her. She reached for the handle, intent on leaving.

“Adora.” something in Hordak’s voice made Adora look back, though Hordak himself was still looking at his work. “I understand that you and Catra are… dating, yes?”

Adora blinked. “Uh.” She wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Other people had asked about her and Catra, of course, but _ Hordak? _ “I… yes? Yes. We are.”

Hordak hummed in acknowledgement as he set down his tools. “I will need to have a word with her, then.”

“Okay… why, exactly?” Adora gave Hordak a dubious look as she took another swig of her drink.

Hordak closed the panel on the robot. “I understand it is my prerogative as your father-”

_ *Pffffffff!* _ cream soda spewed from Adora’s mouth in an _ impressive _ spit-take.

“-to evaluate anyone you become romantically-”

“STOP!” Adora waved her hands frantically. “Stop, stop! You’re my _ what?!” _

Hordak looked up at her. “Your father. I was the first to reach you when you came through a portal to this world; Entrapta explained to me that, as the only adult on-scene, I became your primary caregiver by default.”

“Y- bu-” Adora sputtered as her mind struggled to pick through the incomprehensible tangle it had just twisted into. _ “You foisted me off on Shadow Weaver!” _

Hordak nodded sadly. “Yes, I’m well aware that I was deficient in my duties; it is therefore all the more important that I start being a proper father _ now _.”

Adora reached her free hand back and started pulling on the door behind her in earnest, seized with a sudden intense desire to be _ literally anywhere else _.

“I- I should probably get back to Entrapta,” Adora said. “Bow and I came here to visit her too, after all.” She started nervously chugging the rest of her drink.

Hordak nodded. “By all means, then.” He smiled. “I’m glad you get along so well with your future stepmother-”

** _*PFFFFFFFFFFF-*_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bluhhhhhh I finally managed to finish this  
it sucks so much when you get an idea in chunks and you have to manually fill in the bits that are missing  
(Entrapta's kitchen staff have no canon names, so I made some up.)


	9. A Steamy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time in the past, a Princess and a pirate have their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series has been very Entrapdak-focused so far, so I've decided to branch out into other ships; this chapter features Seamista in a scene that I think captures the true spirit of the pairing.

Everything was prepared perfectly for the night: the table had been set, the food had been put in to cook, and his first mate had made himself scarce for the evening.

Sea Hawk, dressed in his finest vestments and clenching a rose betwixt his teeth, opened the door of his new ship to greet the beautiful maiden who had given him said ship.

“Prinshesh Mermishta,” he attempted to speak around the rose, “I shee you foumd-_ ouch-” _ he attempted to quickly-yet-suavely remove the thorned flower from his mouth. “I see you found your way here alright.”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Mermista hadn’t made more than a token effort to dress herself up. _ “Despite _ your directions.”

Sea Hawk smiled. “Well, I hope you’re prepared for an unforgettable dinner.” He gave a small, debonair bow to the Princess. “And may I say you look _ radiant _ this evening.”

“Mhm.” Mermista offered the medium-grade bottle of wine she’d brought to be polite. “Brought you this.”

The pirate took the proffered bottle with a roguish grin. “Ah, an ‘87 _ Chateew do Vine,” _ he said, reading off the label and pronouncing every word wrong. “As expected of a Princess, you are as cultured as you are beautiful!” He placed it in a barrel of ice he’d placed to the side of an elegantly furnished table, set with golden candelabras and polished silverware on an extravagantly embroidered tablecloth - all of which he may or may not have appropriated from restaurants he may or may not have burned down by accident.

Mermista sat down, decidedly unimpressed. “Uh-huh.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” Sea Hawk crooned, taking care to lay on the charm. “I’ll just go check on our dinner.”

He exited through the door to the ship’s galley with cheer only to be stopped short by the sight of his oven, which was emitting an alarming amount of smoke.

It should be noted that Sea Hawk was many things, depending on who you asked: a pirate, an adventurer, a devilishly handsome rogue, an arsonist (something he was called quite often), and much more besides.

A chef, unfortunately, was not one of those things.

“No!” he cried in despair at the charred remains of his dinner. “The halibut, it’s ruined! Now what will I serve to the fair Princess!?” He cast about wildly for some way to save his evening, catching sight of the portside market just outside. “What if… I were to purchase food from a vendor,” he contemplated, “and disguise it as my own cooking?” He chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “Ohoho, delightfully devious, Sea Hawk!”

He pushed open the porthole and lifted one of his boots to the edge. Before he could slip out, however, he heard the door behind him open. Sea Hawk swivelled his head around, meeting eyes with an unamused-looking Mermista.

“Mermista!” Sea Hawk squawked in surprise. “I was just…” his eyes darted about. “…stretching out my calves!” The pirate quickly made some energetic stretching motions. “Just a bit of exercise to get the appetite going! Care to join me?”

Mermista pointed at the smoking oven with a raised eyebrow. “Why is there smoke coming out of your oven?”

“Oh, uh,” Sea Hawk looked back and forth between the Princess and the appliance. “That isn’t smoke,” he declared. “It’s steam! Steam from the steamed crabs we’re having! Mmmmm, steamed crab!”

The Princess didn’t appear to believe his lie even slightly, but went back to the dining quarters nonetheless.

“Phew.” Sea Hawk wiped some sweat from his brow, partially from nerves and partially because the temperature in the galley was rising quickly. He slipped out of the ship and ran to the market.

* * *

“Well, my dearest Mermista,” Sea Hawk pushed through the door holding a silver serving tray that also may or may not have been stolen, “I hope you’re ready for mouth-watering shish-kebabs!”

The Princess looked at him with a blank expression. “I thought we were having steamed crabs.”

“Oho, no,” the pirate set the tray on the table, only just managing not to knock over the candelabras. “I said steamed _ ‘babs. _ That’s what I call shish-kebabs.”

“You call shish-kebabs _ steamed ‘babs.” _

“Yes!” Sea Hawk proclaimed proudly. “It’s a… regional dialect.”

Mermista raised an eyebrow. “What region?”

“Ah… West Demonsea.”

“Really?” The Princess crossed her arms. “Because I spent a year in Elfswidge and I never heard anyone use the phrase ‘steamed ‘babs.’”

“Oh, not in Elfswidge,” Sea Hawk was quick to assert. “No, it’s a Seaworthy expression.”

“I see.”

A few minutes passed in silence as the two ate.

Mermista inspected her kebab. “You know, these shish-kebabs are a lot like the ones they sell down at the port-”

“Ohohohoho no,” Sea Hawk interrupted. “Patented Sea-Kebabs! Old family recipe.”

The Princess looked at him, her face deadpan. “For steamed ‘babs.”

“…Yes.”

Mermista held up her kebab. “Yeah, and you call them ‘steamed ‘babs’ even though they’re obviously grilled.”

“Ah…” Sea Hawk floundered for a response. “Well y- …One thing I-” A nervous glance around caused him to catch sight of a plume of smoke coming out from under the door. “Excuse me for a moment.”

“Whatever.”

Stepping through the door to the galley, Sea Hawk was very quickly able to discern the source of the smoke.

It was everything. The galley was on fire.

Thinking quickly, the pirate went back through the door and faked an enormous yawn.

“Ahhh, well that was wonderful,” he said. “A good time was had, but I’m afraid I’m all romanced out for the day.”

Mermista nodded. “Yeah, cool. I may as well head out-” she caught a glimpse into the galley as the door swung shut. “Oh my gosh,” she pointed with more energy than she’d shown the entire night, _ “what is going on in there?!” _

“Aurora Borealis,” Sea Hawk proclaimed.

Mermista stopped, struck dumb. “A… _ Aurora Borealis,” _ she said, incredulous. “At _ this _ time of year, at _ this _ time of day, in _ this _ part of Etheria, _ localized entirely in your galley?” _

“Yes.”

The Princess looked askance at the pirate. “…Can I see it?”

Sea Hawk paused, considering. “…No.”

The two exited onto the deck of the ship and headed for the gangplank. Sea Hawk felt good about the date; overall, it had been one of the least disastrous evenings he’d had in months.

Just as they prepared to disembark, a voice rang out from across the ship. “Captain!” cried Sea Hawk’s current first mate, “Captain, the ship’s on fire!”

“Don’t worry, Swen!” Sea Hawk called back. “It’s just the northern lights!”

Mermista looked dispassionately at her date. “Well, Sea Hawk, I had my doubts about you, but after this date, I think I know what kind of man you are.”

The pirate perked up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She pointed at him. “You’re a huge dork who somehow thinks he’s smooth, you’re irresponsible, you’re a terrible liar, and I’m pretty sure every place within fifty feet of you counts as some kind of disaster area.”

Sea Hawk’s good mood burst, but he did his best not to cry; the Princess hadn’t said anything he hadn’t heard before, after all.

“But I gotta say…” Mermista smirked. “You _ do _ steam a good ‘bab. Let’s do this again some time.”

Sea Hawk felt his heart fill with joy as the princess walked off. “Swen!” he cried. “Swen, did you hear that?! She wants to see me again!”

A portly orange-haired man surfaced from the water next to the port and glared at him. “That’s it, I’m sick of this job; I quit!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry.


End file.
